


A Kind of Magic

by Loverandafool



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverandafool/pseuds/Loverandafool
Summary: You can handle demons, witches, vampires and any other monster out there; you can even handle a few out of line hunters, but dealing with the British Men of Letters was something else all together. Mick Davies is like nothing you’ve ever encountered before, and you’re torn between being cautious, oblivious or smitten. When your past comes back to haunt you, an unexpected ally comes to your aid, and you fall hard.





	A Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first publishing of any of my writing, ever! So please be nice. I wrote this for Toni’s BMoL British Invasion Challenge (you can find her on Tumblr as @wayward-mirage), and I already have a general idea of where I want this fic to go, but I’ll see how this bit does.

“…and that concludes our chapter of the Toltec Empire,” you said, turning around as you finished writing on the whiteboard, “Now, I’ve written down a handful of books you’ll find interesting. You can read up a bit on the Toltec and their myths, something I always find entertaining. Tomorrow, we’ll begin with Aztec Civilization. Hopefully, we’ll be able to cover the extensive history of it over the next week, so we can move onto the Spanish Conquest. Any questions?”

Your students were all busy scribbling into their notebooks, some of them typing away at their laptops or tablets.

You grinned and walked forward, “That’s all guys, thank you. I’ll see you all Monday .” The twenty-two college students sitting in front of you stood up and made their way out, a few of them stopping by your desk to wish you a happy weekend.

Once they had all cleared out, you sighed deeply and plopped down in your chair. You allowed the false smile on your face to wash away, taking another deep breath. After staring at the oak wooden desktop, you pulled yourself together and began to pack up your bags.

There was nothing waiting for you at home except a fat thirteen year old Siamese cat, a Netflix subscription and three bottles of chilled wine. Your career wasn’t as exciting as you had once thought it’d be, and your love life wasn’t even worth mentioning. Instead of traveling the world and studying ancient cultures, like you thought your degrees in anthropology, sociology and history would earn you, you ended up teaching in a community college just to get by.

You picked up the thick leather clad book and placed it with care into your purse. This would perhaps be the highlight of your weekend, that and a large Sophia Loren pizza pie, accompanied by some hot wings. At least, this place had a good library. How they managed it, you would never know, but you were thankful for it.

Right as you were about to walk out of the classroom, the door opened and closed. A well dressed man, slightly taker than you was standing in front of it, a friendly smile on his face.

“You must be Professor Y/L/N,” he greeted, “I’m Mick Davies and I’ve been looking for you.”

You froze mid-step, frowning deeply. However, you quickly regained your posture and slung your bag over your shoulder, standing proud, “I am. Class just ended a minute ago, and you look a tad too old and overdressed to be taking a course in Mexican History. So, this begs the question; what can I help you with?”

He chuckled, “I doubt you would have the time for me to list all in which you could assist me, and undoubtedly, you would tire from just standing there. Perhaps a cup of tea, or whatever they pass as one here, while I discuss the reason of my being here?”

You narrowed your eyes, not missing the way his green eyes moved over you from head to toe. Mick Davies was handsome, that you could not deny, however you weren’t one to fall for a cocky smile and a pair of nice eyes, along with a heavy wallet, if judging by his attire was anything to go by.

“Right, because me following a random guy in a suit with a British accent somehow doesn’t end up with my head in your fridge?”

He smirked and cocked his head to the side, “I was thinking head in the fridge, but now that I’ve taken a good look at you I’m thinking taxidermy. A beautiful specimen like you would look marvelous perched in my living room sofa. However, I’m much more interested in your mind.”

Despite his words, you felt yourself relaxing, a grin growing on your face. “So you’ll saw open my skull and probe my brain?” you said, eyebrows rising.

Davies shook his head, “Though tempting, I think not. I want a bit of your professional insight.”

Your interest was piqued, “Am I allowed to ask why, or will that be revealed once you whisk me away to some undisclosed location from which I may never walk away?”

Mick chuckled, “I was rather thinking the café just outside of campus.” You sighed, “I assume I do not have a choice.”

Davies shook his head, “I would never allow it. Of course you have a choice; however, if my sources are correct, I think you will be more than willing to accompany me.”

You watched with wide eyes as he reached into the inner pocket of his black suit, feeling your body tense up, anticipating him pulling out a gun. Instead, a piece of paper emerged.

He held it up, smiling at you, “Do you recognize this at all?” You walked forward a bit, until the image became clear. It appeared to be a picture of an ancient scroll, hieroglyphics lined every inch of the surface, a language you knew all too well.

“That… that’s Nahuatl,” you whispered, automatically reaching for the page to see it closer. Your eyes grew wide, “There is Spanish and French written underneath the images, which means it…” You looked up at him with wonder, “The French and the Spanish only cooperated at the very beginnings of the Spanish conquest, an effort to vanquish and dominate the natives, and then ‘divide the goods’. Of course, Spain never intended to let France have a piece of the pie, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t exploit France’s finest, meaning both Spanish and French priests began to study the language of the natives, thinking if they knew how to properly communicate with them, they could control them sooner. One of the first codices they worked on was the Borbonicus. But this piece, I’ve never laid eyes on it. And that’s saying something, since I know the Borbonicus Codex like the back of my hand….”

You trailed off, feeling your face grow hot, “I uh… I tend to ramble when I get excited. Sorry.”

Mick chuckled, “Don’t worry Professor Y/L/N. If I may be so bold, I will say I find it endearing.”

You blushed even more, “I uh… more to the point. This is not something I’ve seen before, which would have me believe that it’s the missing page of the codex. Why do you have it?”

Mick hummed, “I can explain everything, if you’ll accompany me.”

You bit your lip and pondered. Part of you knew this was taking a huge risk, but the greater part of you was beyond curious. If this was real, this could be the making point of your career, of your entire life. 

“Fine,” you said after a minute, “But I will be texting my friends of my whereabouts, and activating an app which will let all my emergency contacts know my exact location.”

Davies grinned, “I would not have it any other way. Shall we go?” You followed him out into the hallway and toward the parking lot.

At this time of night, all the students had left already, which meant only a lingering few teachers turned to look at the both of you. Suddenly, you felt wildly underdressed in your jeans, converse and plaid shirt while walking alongside a man with a flawless and probably expensive suit.

“You are wildly underappreciated and might I say, wasted in this… school,” Mick said, shaking his head, “School is a far too good name for this place.”

You frowned deeply, “Community Colleges do a bit more than you give them credit for. They offer higher education for those who can’t afford state colleges and those who aren’t able to get in because of a system that is failing them and not the other way around. Not to mention people who are unable to attend college fresh out of high school and who have families to tend to. The list goes on and on.”

Mick raised an eyebrow, “You seem… passionate about this.” You shrugged, “Not everyone can be a rich and pompous asshole, flaunting their money and fancy education that daddy provided for them. Some of us work hard for what we have, and sometimes community colleges are the first step to making that happen.”

Davies nodded, taking the last turn down the hallway toward the parking lot. “I agree wholeheartedly. However, the way your government handles the lack of opportunities for higher education is what I was referring to. Money is misguided, given to those with certain privileges and refused to those who really need it. Americans segregate the rich and the poor; they make sure the poor have less access to education, health coverage and job opportunities. That creates delinquencies, debt, and homelessness. The poor get poorer, the rich get richer. The cycle never ends.”

He chuckled, “Let’s not get into all of that now. Especially since you won’t believe a word out of my mouth once you see…”

“Nice car,” you remarked sarcastically, nodding to his Jaguar. He hung his head, “Yes, exactly that.” You shook your head, “Either way, I have my own car.”

He held up his hands, “Fair enough. Do keep up.” Your eyes narrowed, “Is that a challenge?”

He smirked, “Take it however you like, darling.” You couldn’t help but smirk back, watching him climb into his car. Coincidentally, although upon further thought you surmised it was on purpose, your car was parked right in front of his. You climbed into your own simple Toyota Corolla and turned on the engine, maintaining eye contact with him.

Once again, your face heated up as you realized you had failed to turn off the radio when you had parked your car, and as soon as you turned the key, your favorite song, mid guitar solo echoed across the empty parking lot.

_“It's a kind of magic_   
_It's a kind of magic.”_

His eyes went insanely wide, and a huge grin lit up his face. You quickly stepped on the thought of how charming you found it, despite being a dozen feet away and seeing it through a windshield. You decided to throw caution to the wind and turned it up even louder, allowing Freddie Mercury’s vocalist talents to enrapture you.

_"The rage that lasts a thousand years_

_Will soon be, will soon be_

_Will soon be, done!_

_This is a kind of magic._

_There can be only one._

_This rage that lasts a thousand years,_

_Will soon be done-done._

_Magic, it's a kind of magic_

_It's a kind of magic_

_Magic, magic, magic, magic_

_Ha ha ha it's magic_

_It's a kind of magic."_

 

Davies smiled and made a ‘you first’ movement, to which you rolled your eyes but drove off. Twenty minutes later, both of you were sitting in a booth at the closest coffee shop. One of the baristas knew you, and already began to prepare your normal order. Davies hummed, “Is the tea any good here?”

You shrugged, sitting down in one of the booths, “I live purely on coffee, regrets and pizza. Not one for tea.” Mick chuckled, sitting across from you. “Us British aren’t very prone to change. However, for you I’ll make the expectation.” He turned his charming smile on the waitress, “I’ll have whatever Professor Y/L/N is having.”

The waitress shrugged, “One mocha cappuccino, lactose free milk, light ice, light whipped cream and extra mocha drizzle.” Mick raised an eyebrow, “Sure.” You shook your head, “She’s kidding.” You smiled up at your friend Danielle, “Bring him tea, I’m guessing earl gray, milk no sugar.”

The waitress snickered, “Right away Y/N.” Mick turned his incredulous look on you. You shrugged, “About 80% of all males in Britain take their tea like that. I spent some time in…”

“Yes, Oxford, I know,” Mick finished for you, “And quite a bit in Cambridge as well. I am well aware of your credentials, which is why I’m here in the first place.”

The briefcase he had brought with him from his car made an appearance on the table. He opened it swiftly and pulled out several documents and folders. He slid one to you, “I know for a fact you consult with several people about… let’s say, uncommon things. We would like you to become… say a permanent consultant. I can assure you, if you agree, you shall want for nothing, monetarily speaking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed, shoving the papers forward, “I teach Mexican History, Spanish and American Folklore at a community college. The only consulting I do is to my students and…”

“Oh we both know that’s not true,” he interrupted, setting his briefcase aside, “You consult with hunters from all over the United States; your expertise in certain areas provides useful information for them. You’ve made plenty of contacts, and if you sniff out a problem, you send one of your hunter friends after it. You’re quite the clever kitten.”

You leaned forward, intent on snapping something back at him, but Danielle chose the exact moment to appear with your drinks. Mick smiled up at her, “Thank you love.” She frowned and turned to look at you, “Everything alright Y/N?”

You nodded, glaring back at Mick, “Nothing I can’t handle myself.” Danielle smirked, “Okay. Joey, Steve and I are just a shout away. And that police deputy that’s been flirting with you is sure to come racing over if we make an emergency call.”

Mick chuckled and smiled brightly at Danielle, “That won’t be necessary. You have my word.”

Danielle snorted, “Whatever posh bastard.” You both watched her walk away, you with a grin and Mick with a shocked face.

You turned back to Davies, crossing your arms, “Who the hell are you?” Mick straightened out his jacket, “I am an agent of the Men of Letters. The British Division.”

You raised an eyebrow, “British Men of Letters.” You snorted, reaching for your iced coffee. You took a long breath, “Not interested.” You began to stand up, but Mick reached over to grab your arm. Your eyes narrowed in on his hold and then looked up at his face, “Not a good idea buddy.”

“Hey!” one of the baristas, a tall, blonde and buff guy you had befriended named Joey was looking towards the both of you.

Mick made a show of letting go of your arm, holding out both arms in a placating manner. “Y/N, please hear me out,” he pleaded, “I can promise you, it’ll be worth your while.”

He flipped open a file and your eyes flicked over to the images it contained. You sat down with a huff, curiosity getting the better of you once more.

“Y/N?” Joey called out, clearly still concerned. You looked up, “I’m alright. Thank you.” He nodded and glared at Mick once more, before going back to wiping the espresso machine.

Mick sighed deeply, “Although you seem highly protected here, I doubt you need their help. You are, after all a trained hunter, even if you never officially acted upon the profession. I doubt I would be able to harm you in any way, even if I tried.”

You hummed, “Men of Letters have always been book worms, not field agents.” You leaned forward, snapping the file closed.

“I’m done playing this little game. You know who I am, you know what I can do, and more to the point, you know who I can call should you upset me. Now, I want to know who the hell you are, and what you want out of me. I have a gun in my bag; you have one in your suit jacket. I however can get it out and fire it within two seconds, that’s what it’ll take you to fumble for your own weapon. So speak Davies, you’ve got thirty seconds.”

Mick hummed, smiling softly, “I am impressed.” You hummed, “Twenty seconds.”

Davies held up his hands, “Okay, okay.” He leaned forward, “Let me paint you a picture, of a world without monsters, or demons or any of those little buggers that go bump in the night, of a world, where no one had to die because of the supernatural. Of a new world, a better world, we…”

“Cut the tape record,” you snapped with a sigh, “I get it.” Mick’s eyes went wide, “You do?”

“I lived in London, remember?” you said, rolling your eyes heavily, “I know all about you and your little buddies. You’ve done good, I admit. Not a single creepy crawly in all of her majesty’s Great Britain. Sigils in every airport, seaport or whatever entry point into the country you have. As soon as one monster sets foot in your turf, a team moves in and is eliminated in less than thirty minutes. I know, I timed you guys. However, this brings me to my next question.”

You sipped your tea, watching Mick’s jaw fumble for a minute. You leaned back, “You’ve watched us for some time, and have never done anything. I mean, once all the known Men of Letters were massacred by a knight of Hell back in ’58, you Brits could’ve stepped in back then and taken over, but no. Hunters took up the slack for the next half a century, and then the Winchesters showed up. Lucifer, the war between heaven and hell, the leviathans, the angels falling, and then of course The Darkness, and you guys just stood back and watched. Why now?”

You gave Mick a couple of minutes to recover. “We… we want to help,” he said, blinking rapidly, “You seem well informed…”

“I have seven degrees, and speak five languages. My father was a hunter and taught me everything I needed to know. I’m smart, I know where to look and how to interpret it. You came here to offer me an absurd amount of money, thinking I was nothing more than a hunter’s daughter who managed to get a couple of degrees and would happily work with the men with nice accents and nicer suits. I am more than happy to inform you, that the answer is no. I don’t want your money, and I sure as hell won’t work for you.”

You stood up this time, grabbing your purse and storming out to your car. Mick stood up as well, following you and chuckling, “I… I am thoroughly impressed Professor Y/L/N.” He slammed your car door shut, as soon as you opened it. “Before you leave, please take these with you.”

He handed you the folders and you eyed them wearily. He smiled, “No strings attached. I promise.” You took them, frowning even more.

“They’re photocopies of the lost pages of the Borbonicus Codex,” he continued, “They contain information about certain creatures we want to destroy. As you may imagine, when they were found and translated, the church kept them hidden and then they fell to our hands. I’ve been searching for someone to help us decode this. I admit, we thought you’d be ideal for just this simple task, but however…”

He smiled as you took the folder, “Your credentials are incredible as it is, however your intelligence, it… it surpasses anything I’ve ever seen and _that_ , Professor is a compliment on its own. Take the images and do what you may with them.”

You glared, “You know that I enjoy this, and that if I do find something relevant, I will let all my friends know and they’ll take care of the creepy crawly.”

Mick shrugged, “That much is true. However, I didn’t think flowers would be a good wooing gift for you.” You stared, wide eyed, before snorting loudly, “Yeah, right. I should shoot you, just on principle alone.”

You weren’t exactly a beauty queen, you were curvier than what was considered the norm of today and drove most men off as soon as you opened you mouth. Men feared an independent and smart woman. You were okay with that, but you weren’t okay with a man who was quite handsome making fun of you for it.

“You know what?! You can take these images and shove them up your pompous British a–”

Before you could finish the sentence, Mick had grabbed your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss. You gasped loudly; lips parting by mistake, a he took advantage of it, pressing you against the car.

Mick pulled apart a second later, remaining within your personal space. He cocked his head to the side, “Are you that happy to see me?”

You pushed the tip of your gun harder against his ribs, “Oh I’m ecstatic about a guy I just met kissing me forcefully.”

Mick inhaled deeply, “You… goodness you are absolutely brilliant.” You cocked the gun, “I…”

“I read your file, quite extensively,” Mick whispered hurriedly, “I saw your pictures, surveillance videos and had one of my agents record you while you gave a class. The passion in which you speak, in which you teach and in which you do pretty much everything enthralled me. You can’t see yourself clearly, I see that now.”

“Let me go,” you hissed, “Or I will shoot you…”

“No, you won’t,” Mick said, grinning as his arms dropped to your waist and he pulled you closer, “You liked it. I can see it in your eyes and feel it in your pulse. You liked me since the moment you laid eyes on me. Let me prove that I like you too. Allow me to show you.”

“This is just another way to get me to work for you,” you hissed, “It’s immoral, wrong and I won’t…”

Your words were cut off once again as Mick kissed you again, as deeply and as passionately as before. You vaguely heard your gun clatter to the floor, however all you could process was your own hands going to his neck to deepen the kiss.

This was getting out of control. Normally it took you an incredibly log time to trust a man, even more to get physical with one, but there was something about Mick Davies that made your entire world shift. It seemed horribly cliché, but damn it all.

He pulled back and smiled boyishly, making you blush deeply. “Forget about my offer,” he whispered, reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Let me take you out. A nice dinner, some dancing and whatever else the night might bring.”

You frowned deeply, “You do realize this is insane, right? You’ve been spying on me like some kind of creep, I barely know you and…”

“Great things in life are rarely sane,” Mick interrupted you with another peck of his lips. He sighed and stood back, “I… I thoroughly apologize if I overstepped certain bounds.”

He cleared his throat, and handed you a card. “Professor Y/L/N,” he said, “If you would find it acceptable, I would like to escort you to dinner tomorrow night.”

He did a little bow that looked more fitting in Victorian London than in front of a café parking lot in the middle of Ohio and kissed your hand seductively. Incredibly, this made you blush way more than the heated kiss had. He winked, before walking over to his car and starting the engine. He kept your gaze through the windshield as ‘A Kind of Magic’ blared from his speakers.

You laughed and shook your head as you climbed into your own car. You watched Mick Davies drive off and cranked up your own Queen music. This was going to be an interesting weekend indeed.


End file.
